


insomnia

by aerana



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Masturbation, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-17
Updated: 2016-09-17
Packaged: 2018-08-15 11:43:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8054956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aerana/pseuds/aerana
Summary: She has a habit of sleeping on the couch.





	insomnia

**Author's Note:**

> *looks at the hits* holy shit you guys i'm in shock
> 
> this was written before i played sevens route in full so there are a couple things that i took creative liberties with and i'll just leave it as is
> 
> feel free to send me prompts tho

She has a habit of sleeping on the couch, Seven notices.

After a few days checking in on her through the security feeds ( _making sure she’s safe_ , he tells himself), he has some of her quirks down. She mutters to herself often. She makes comments about their texts aloud, and he smiles every time he hears them. She doesn’t always remember to eat, at first, but it seems every single one of the RFA members have decided to collectively take an interest in her nutritional well-being, so she starts eating regularly.

And she sleeps on the couch.

She goes to the bedroom most of the time, where he respects her privacy and doesn’t dare look. But she takes naps on the sofa in the living room, and sometimes, when she can’t sleep, she’ll move from the bed to the couch.

This is one of those nights, it seems, as he watches her shift restlessly on the couch. Seven checks the time. It’s two in the morning. He considers, briefly, calling or messaging her -- but he doubts his voice would help her sleep. If anything, he thinks wryly, she would only be more awake.

Seven returns to his work, but he barely has a chance to immerse himself in it before a small noise catches his attention -- a tiny whimper, coming from his monitor. He immediately goes to check -- a nightmare? an intruder? is she in trouble? -- and goes utterly still.

She’s lying on the couch, eyes shut, with her top ridden up her chest and her skirt discarded on the floor. One hand is at her breast, fingers rolling a nipple to a hard peak. The other slides down beneath her underwear, moving purposefully.

“ _Oh_ ,” she breathes, her voice hitching, “ _a-ahh--_ ”

His brain short-circuits. He’d known she was gorgeous from the first moment he saw her, but this is the first time he can’t think of anything else -- just her, and the way her hair fans out beneath her, the way her pretty skin flushes pink all over, the soft mewls coming from her mouth.

He suddenly finds it hard to swallow, his own skin heating. He can’t think, his mind is still in a haze, but his body doesn’t need conscious thought to react. His cock goes hard within seconds.

Seven shuts his eyes, desperately ignoring her stifled moans, trying to get himself together. His first rational thought is: _I should turn off the screen._ His second thought is: _She has to know._

He’d told her about the security feeds, he _knows_ he did. She had even waved at the camera for him from time to time. And the way she’s positioned, in full-view of the camera --

“ _Luciel_ ,” she moans, his name, his _real_ name in that wrecked, desperate voice --

He unbuttons his trousers and takes out his cock, unable to stop himself. He groans in relief as his hand wraps around the sensitive flesh, stroking up and down as he watches her. She’s shoved her underwear down to her ankles, legs parted so he can see everything. Two fingers, sliding in and out, slick and easy. She circles her clit with her other hand, and her body tenses when she finds the right movement. He matches his strokes with hers, his ragged breaths an echo of her own.

Is she imagining him fucking her? He can hear how wet she is, the sound her fingers make as they thrust into her cunt, and he imagines being there, pushing her down onto the couch, sliding into her with ease. He imagines taking her nipples into his mouth and having her hands in his hair, and how hot and tight she would be around his cock, near unbearable.

“ _Please,_ ” she begs, and he would fuck her harder, push her legs up to her shoulders and piston his hips into her as she gasped and moaned his name.

He imagines taking her everywhere in that apartment. Up against the front door, her legs wrapped his, her breasts bouncing with each thrust. Bent over the kitchen counter, thrusting into her from behind. Her legs straddling him as she rides his cock, his hands on her breasts. On the bed with his face buried between her thighs, his tongue circling her clit and his fingers fucking into her.

On the screen, her moans become louder, her fingers moving at a frenzied pace. “Fuck,” he groans, gripping himself tighter, stroking harder and faster, and he’s close, but he doesn’t want to miss a second.

“ _Luciel - oh -_ ” she cries out, her body going taut as she comes.

He thrusts into his hands erratically, desperately, and he comes only a few moments later, his eyes screwed shut and her name in his mouth, spilling onto his hands and stomach.

After his breath evens out, he opens his eyes to look back at the screen. She’s walking back from the direction of the hallway -- the bathroom, maybe? -- and she settles back onto the couch, yawning and tugging a blanket over her.

But then she aims a sleepy smile straight at the camera. “ _Good night, Seven,_ ” she says softly.

He looks at the screen, stunned for a moment, and then smiles to himself as he watches her slowly fall asleep. She never fails to surprise him.

They’re going to have an interesting conversation in the morning, he thinks, and goes to get ready for bed.


End file.
